


It Takes A Village

by peterqpan



Series: Harringrove Works [19]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy and Steve are children, Everyone is a kid in this, Happy Ending, He barely talks, Kidfic, Kids dealing with tough stuff, M/M, Neil is in this but their teacher is having none of his shit, no sexytimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29439468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterqpan/pseuds/peterqpan
Summary: The new boy in class is loud, and obnoxious, and really, really pretty, and he keeps staring at Steve.  Steve likes it.Billy's elementary teacher fixes his life.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Harringrove Works [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624003
Comments: 30
Kudos: 98





	1. Chapter 1

Steve didn’t even mean to be nice to the new kid—he was weird, growly, and kind of skittish, like the time Steve had found a raccoon under the deck. But Tommy Hagen had got the new kid to use the drinking fountain _ nobody  _ used, and he was busting a gut laughing as the new kid’s whole head got sprayed, and his shoes filled with water from the leak. 

He just stood there in shock. 

Steve came around the corner _ right  _ as Mrs. White walked up. He didn’t have time to run _ back  _ around the corner, so Steve dodged around her and showed him, Billy, the new kid, how to hold the handle so half the water didn’t go up your nose and half in your shoes. 

Mrs. White was still suspicious of Steve in class, her eyes narrowed at him after she sent Tommy to the principal’s office, so Steve waved Billy over, and shared his book and pencils. He only rolled his eyes a _ little  _ when Billy leaned warily away, and wouldn’t stop squirming, and stared at Steve like a weirdo, the whole time picking at scabs on his knees and elbows. 

He wouldn’t _ stop staring,  _ but when Mrs. White came by again and _ again,  _ leaning in, Billy _ got  _ it, he blinked his big blue eyes at Steve and said _ “Gosh,  _ thanks, Stevie, you’re _ so nice,”  _ and Steve held in the giggles until she stopped frowning at them and walked on by. Steve leaned and bumped their shoulders together in thanks, and Billy stared at him again. He was sort of...cute, actually, Steve thought, all his freckles, and his long eyelashes, and the way he went pink-cheeked whenever he looked at Steve.

Steve, after deep thought, slid his Godzilla eraser across his desk, and told Billy he could use it for the whole class. Billy took it carefully, and walked it across the desk and into his hand. Steve giggled, and Mrs. White cleared her throat for attention.

At recess, it wasn’t really _ fair,  _ Billy trying to play ringolevio when he didn’t know which kids were friends or who to watch out for. He kept getting tagged and thrown in jail, so Steve hurtled in to save him, yelling “All in, all in, free!” over and over. He raced in there _ four times  _ until he got caught himself, and he and Billy had to sit back down on the cement planters, giggling. 

Steve realized—watching Billy kick his feet against the cement—that they were still holding hands. Steve had run in to grab him, and never let go. Billy saw him looking, and squeezed his fingers, smiling at their sneakers, and Steve scooted closer, kicking at Billy’s feet, until they were both kicking each other and giggling. His hand was warm and grimy. Every time somebody else got tossed in jail and everybody laughed, Steve felt Billy’s fingers tighten on his, just for a second. He squeezed back. 

At the end of recess, Tommy was back, and he _ right away  _ tried to push Steve and Billy apart, and grab Steve’s Godzilla eraser back from Billy. Billy _ punched  _ him like _ James Bond. _

Tommy fell on his butt and _ cried.  _

Mrs. White paged the office, and somebody came and got Billy, because she was getting a ton of paper towels for Tommy’s bloody nose. He cried on the floor, blood dripping down his elbows, and Steve tried to give _Tommy_ his eraser. Tommy threw it back, and it bounced off Steve’s cheek.

It wasn’t _ fair,  _ and when Mrs. White came back from taking Tommy to the nurse, she was mean. She didn’t let Billy _ or  _ Tommy sit with Steve anymore—she put them right up front, like they were troublemakers. Steve sat and stewed until lunch, when Tommy tried to get everybody to pretend there was no room for Billy at their table, and Nancy Wheeler told him to stop, and Billy sat down kind of across from Steve, not looking at anybody. 

His eyes were red like he’d been crying just as hard as Tommy. The apples in Steve’s lunch had turned brown, too, and he was thinking about the book _ Alexander and the Terrible Horrible No-Good Very Bad Day,  _ when Billy sighed.

He opened his _ Emergency!  _ lunchbox and slammed it shut again, starting to sniffle. Steve tried to kick his feet under the table, to get him to look up, and even Barb snarled. Steve thought maybe he’d kicked her in the shin.

Everybody was in a bad mood, Steve thought, ducking his head, but he finally tossed a grape at Billy and got him to get his attention, and mouthed _ What’s wrong. _

Billy shrugged, not eating, and Steve shrugged theatrically at him, mouthing _ What?!  _ then, when Billy shrugged again, Steve cupped his hands around his mouth and hissed _ “Cool lunchbox.”  _ He lifted the lid of his own _ Gunsmoke  _ lunchbox, and then pointed to the nine other kids with the same one, rolling his eyes, and Billy smirked, his cheeks pink. 

His hair looked soft, Steve thought. Billy Hargrove was _ pretty,  _ Steve realized, watching him, and only kind of aware of the other kids around him, until Nancy reached over and knocked on Billy’s closed lunchbox.

“Why aren’t you eating lunch?” she asked, looking worried, and Billy folded down around his lunchbox, hiding it. 

“She forgot to pack me a lunch,” he muttered.

“It made a big thunk when you sat it down,” Nancy said, and Steve winced, knowing _ exactly  _ how hard it was to get Nancy Wheeler to leave something alone. “Maybe somebody would trade you something!” she suggested, grabbing for it, and Billy grabbed at the handle, and it _ opened,  _ and an apple fell onto the table with a _ can of beer. _

Billy threw the lunchbox at Nancy and _ ran,  _ shoving by the cafeteria lady when she tried to tell him he needed a hall pass. He kicked her in the shin and slammed into the door like a quarterback, falling into the hallway and scrambling away. 

Steve stared with everyone else at the can of Budweiser rolling around on the table, then stuffed his own lunch back in his lunchbox and ran after Billy. He wasn’t far—with the grown-ups all clutching their hands over the can of beer, nobody’d come after him yet, and Steve found him halfway down the hall, with his face in the broken drinking fountain again like he’d wanted a shower. 

“Billy,” Steve said uncertainly, and Billy jumped, jerking his head up to stare at Steve as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Come on, we’re not allowed in the hallway,” Steve whispered, holding his hand out, and Billy lowered his frown to Steve’s hand, before they heard shouting from the cafeteria, and Billy lurched forward and grabbed Steve’s hand like he was hypnotized.

Steve drug him down the hall and into the library, hiding the lunchbox with their bodies, and pulled him into one of the alcoves. “You keep watch,” he whispered, opening his lunchbox with a wince as it squeaked, and trying to handle his sandwich baggie silently. He slid the sandwich out, holding his breath, and carefully sat the bag aside, tearing his grape PB&J in half. 

Billy watched him, then took a sharp breath as Steve passed him half his sandwich, two oreos, and half the apple slices, and Steve wondered what Billy had thought he was _ doing,  _ but didn’t risk discovery to ask. They ate in silence, though Billy ate _ fast,  _ stuffing the last oreo in his face with some apple slices, and brushing his hands off on his pants. He crawled over while Steve was still wondering how to eat apple slices quietly, and sat next to him. 

The oreos and peanut butter stuck Steve’s mouth together, and he carefully unscrewed his thermos, listening for the librarian. He offered it to Billy first, who squinted in, shrugged, and drank a few swallows. He handed it back, and Steve tried not to think about how it was warm from Billy’s hand, and Billy’s _ mouth  _ had been on the edge, and he didn’t _ mind,  _ he just couldn’t stop _ thinking  _ about it. 

The milk was still cold, and so were Billy’s lips, when he leaned in and pressed them against Steve’s cheek.

Steve had been gonna show Billy around, show him where the Garfield cartoons were, after he finished his lunch, but he forgot to do that either, just sitting warm against Billy, holding hands. He kept smiling at his shoes, the way Billy had earlier, and when Billy glanced over at the apples and oreo Steve hadn’t eaten, Steve pushed them into his hands. 

Billy didn’t want to go back to class when the bell rang—he didn’t say anything, just drug against Steve’s arm as they walked down the hall, so Steve stopped. 

“Do you want a hug?” he asked, the way Nancy did.

It felt _ dangerous,  _ just standing there without a hall pass, like a teacher might sweep down on them any second and yell, but Steve waited until Billy gave a quick nod, and pulled him into a tight hug. He smelled like peanut butter sandwich and strawberry bubble bath, and he hugged Steve back, hard, his hands shaking. 

The bell rang again, and the feet running around stopped, and Steve felt like a _ burglar in a movie,  _ caught in somebody’s house just before they called the cops. He wondered, feeling Billy’s fingers clench in the back of his shirt, about the boy who’d been _ expelled  _ last year. 

Maybe he and Billy would be expelled together, he thought. Maybe they could rob banks.

They were still holding hands when they tried to sneak back into class, and Mrs. White came and crouched in front of them. She didn’t look mad, exactly, but Steve started feeling _ dizzy,  _ until she patted his cheek and told him to take a breath, and he made a gasping noise like a bullfrog. He wondered if she’d called his _ dad,  _ and opened his mouth to ask, his eyes stinging, when she reached out and took Billy’s other hand. The hand Steve was holding tightened, and Steve squeezed back. 

“You okay, honey?” Mrs. White asked Billy, and he nodded, his gaze flicking to the staring faces of the silent class. “How about you sit with Steve again,” she said, keeping her voice low, and Billy took a weird gulping breath and nearly squeezed Steve’s fingers _ right off,  _ but Steve set his jaw and didn’t whine.

Tommy had to move a seat up so Billy could sit between them, and he glared at Steve the whole time, baring his teeth. _ “Fuck  _ on you,” he hissed, and the nerd across the aisle—Howie something—gasped.

“Shut up,” Billy hissed back, while Mrs. White talked about their last names and the alphabet. He turned in his seat to fold his arms on Steve’s desk. “Guess the alphabet means we’ll always be together,” he whispered, and Steve folded his arms too, so he could hide his grin, and how red his face was. 

Something bounced off his head, and Steve lifted it to see Tommy glaring at him, teary-eyed, but Steve avoided his gaze, biting his lips together. 

In P.E., they played dodgeball, and Billy and Tommy threw _ only at each other  _ until Steve tried to yank Tommy out of the way, and Tommy got mad and kicked him in the shin. The teacher had to wade in and put Tommy and Billy on the _ same  _ team, and Steve on the _ other  _ one, and then they were _ both  _ mad at him.

“Why do we even play dodgeball,” Mrs. White groaned, lifting her glasses and pinching the bridge of her nose as she stood near him in the “out” zone. 

“It’s mean,” Steve told her, and she sighed, and took them in early, calling out about how the weather said it was going to rain.

“It’s gonna be fine, it _ will,”  _ Nancy said after school, looking worried, as Steve tried to make her dolls kiss, and Nancy decided they were astronauts actually, and going to space. “It’s okay, remember last summer when you and Tommy held each other under in the pool, and the police came—”

“That was _ horrible,”  _ Steve told her, his eyes burning at the memory. “I don’t want that to ever happen—I thought he was _ dead— _ I had to call the _ police—” _

“He got in _ so much trouble,”  _ Nancy said with satisfaction. “Served him right, scaring you—”

“He ignored me _ all summer,”  _ Steve moaned into his hands.

“Well, he shouldn’t have pretended he _ drowned,”  _ she huffed. “Why’d he go and do that, anyway?”

“He said he wanted to play rescue,” Steve sighed, feeling like he was gonna cry _ again,  _ just remembering Tommy lying limp beside the pool. “He wanted me to pretend to—to save him—but he didn’t tell me that!”

Nancy stopped dragging him down the stairs midway, turning to stare up at him. “...did he want you to...put your _ mouth  _ on his mouth?!”

Steve blinked at her. “Maybe?! But he didn’t _ say  _ that, I thought he was _ dead— _ I called 911—”

“Good job,” she said, looking weirdly proud of him. She patted his shoulder, then grabbed his hand, tugging him along. “There are boxes downstairs,” she whispered. Her hand was smaller than Billy’s. And cleaner. “But you apologized, and you were friends again!”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Steve muttered, feeling rebellious. “What are we doing _ now,”  _ he groaned, but perked up when he saw her rocketship plans—it looked neat, with drawn-on flames, and she handed him a big sharp pair of scissors. 

“We’re not supposed to use these,” she whispered, “—so don’t cut yourself.”

He nodded, setting his jaw. “I won’t,” he whispered back. 

“Tommy will come around,” Nancy said, sighing. “You’ll see. He’s just _ jealous.” _

Steve thought, privately, that it had _ hurt  _ when Tommy smacked him in the face with the dodgeball, even if he _ had  _ been put in time out every time, and it had been _ really scary  _ last summer by the pool, trying to get Tommy out of the water, and screaming for help with nobody arouond, but somehow _ Steve  _ always ended up being the one saying sorry. He sighed. 

“...why didn’t you ask _ Billy  _ to play, instead,” Nancy asked, shooting a grin at him, and he frowned back at her, feeling like she was teasing him, but not sure why.

“He’s new,” he shot back, sawing at the window of the rocketship piece. “I _ should  _ be nice to him! And he…” he didn’t know _ what  _ to say about the can of beer.

“I tried to tell him I was sorry,” Nancy said, making a face. “About the lunchbox. I didn’t mean to make him dump it out. Do…” she bit her lip. “D’you think he got in trouble?”

“Mrs. White was nice,” Steve said doubtfully, cutting three sides of the hole in the box and leaving the flap, so the astronauts could close their windows. “Maybe he’s _ already  _ in trouble, though. I mean, with his mom, maybe. She put it _ in  _ there.”

“...yeah,” Nancy sighed. 

That night in bed, Steve lay staring up at the starry night designs his night-light made on the ceiling, thinking about Billy Hargrove. He snuck downstairs and added more cookies to his lunchbox, and made another sandwich in the light of the fridge, but his secrecy failed when his mom found the plate and knife in the sink in the morning, and asked whether he’d had enough to eat at dinner. 

Billy wasn’t always cute, Steve discovered the next day. He wouldn’t leave Tommy alone—he kept leaning forward against Tommy’s seat and whispering to him, then leaning back and away as Tommy whirled, snarling. If Tommy tried to ignore him, Billy drew on the back of his neck with a marker, until Mrs. White took it away. 

Steve felt dumb, too, when Billy opened his lunchbox on a perfectly _ normal  _ lunch, and grinned over, and Steve had to try and hide his extra sandwich and cookies under the sandwich bags—and then in P.E., playing Red Rover, Billy wouldn’t stop running right _ at  _ Steve, until nobody wanted to be the one holding hands with him, and Steve’s arms hurt, and he had scrapes up his fingers from people trying to hold on. 

Every time Billy broke through, he threw his arms around Steve’s neck, spinning him around, and Steve sighed, letting him. His hair _ was  _ soft.

Tommy didn’t talk to Steve at _ all,  _ and Steve was starting to worry about it, trying to catch his eye. 

“It’s fine,” Nancy sighed, as they hung up their coats. “Tommy, I mean. He wants you back, or he wouldn’t be fighting Billy so hard.”

“...I guess,” Steve said, as he tried hanging his coat up on a hook with three others, and it fell back off. “I think he’s gonna make me say I’m sorry, but I don’t even know what I’m sorry _ for—” _

“Then don’t do it,” Nancy snorted, waiting for him to find a hook that wasn’t already full of coats. “Let _ him  _ say he’s sorry.”

“He _ won’t,”  _ Steve whispered, shoving his coat between some others, and glancing over his shoulder. “He always makes me apologize!”

“Yep,” she said, poking him in the chest. “He always starts the fight. And then he makes _ you  _ patch it up.”

Steve rubbed where she’d prodded him, biting his lips, and then Billy came over, cocking his head to catch Steve’s eye. 

“Saved you my juice box,” he whispered. “And my cookie.”

“...oh,” Steve said, his face flushing. “I, um. I got some oreos for you.”

“Score,” Billy giggled, bumping their shoulders together, and they traded cookies, and shared the juice box, while Nancy raised her eyebrows at them, then stood watch as everybody milled around, getting into their seats.

Billy’s hair was shiny, Steve thought, not really listening in class, because he was watching Billy squirm in his seat. Billy leaned forward to mess with Tommy again, and Steve caught his shoulder, squeezing it. Billy went still, then reached up and squeezed Steve’s hand, his fingers warm and a little crumby from the oreos, and then school was _ out  _ suddenly, and Steve thought it must be early dismissal, the day had gone by so quick. 

It wasn’t, Nancy told him. She sounded like she was laughing again. 

The third day of Billy Hargrove, they played Sardines at recess, and Steve hissed for Billy when he walked by—even though Steve wasn’t in a very good spot for it, since Tommy had taken the biggest of the truck tires they played in, set in cement. A _ bunch  _ of kids could Sardine in there, but Steve knew if he ran after Tommy, there’d be a while before more kids found them, just being _ ignored,  _ and then he’d probably cry and ask Tommy to be his friend again, and Tommy would probably tell him no, just to be mean.

So Steve had picked a kind of lousy spot, under the slide, where there was barely room for _ him  _ let alone Billy Hargrove. Billy climbed in half on top of him anyway, their coats making _ zup zuup  _ noises as the fabric rubbed together, and they had to squeeze up _ tight.  _ Steve could feel Billy giggling, and feel his soft hair tickling. He watched Billy’s long eyelashes in the dim light, and the way his cheeks bunched as he grinned. He didn’t have mittens like Steve did, and his hands were red.

Steve felt a weird urge to hold him _ still,  _ and—and count his freckles, maybe. Stare into his face until Billy got embarrassed, or try kissing _ Billy’s  _ cheek, a thought that took up Steve’s _ whole entire brain  _ once he’d thought it up. He reached out with both mittens and held Billy’s head still—Billy blinked his long eyelashes, and Steve watched him—and pulled him closer. His breathing sounded loud, suddenly, and he held it, then in a surge of bravery, ducked his head and pressed a kiss to Billy’s warm cheek. 

Billy jerked against him, searching his face with wide eyes—they were gray in the shadows under the slide, but Steve remembered the way they glittered blue in class—and then he shoved Steve back onto the ground and crawled over him to kiss his _ mouth.  _ It was like in movies, Steve thought, like in Robin Hood, when Robin kissed Maid Marian, and he stared up dazedly at Billy’s uncertain expression, and didn’t even mind the soles of Billy’s boots digging into his sides through his coat.

Steve pushed himself up on his elbows to try it again—and pay _ attention  _ this time, to the little shake in Billy’s breath, how heavy he was on Steve’s chest, and how warm. He felt like he was made of knees and elbows, but also kind of...scared, so Steve didn’t move, and watched how wide his smile got as Steve pressed their lips together again.

Billy giggled, lying on top of him in a squish of coats, and kicking his feet in the air over his butt. He kissed Steve all over his mouth, and his cheeks, and his nose. He smelled like fresh-mown grass, and he didn’t do anything _ gross  _ like the people in the movies did, he didn’t stick his _ tongue  _ in Steve’s mouth. He did hide his face in Steve’s neck, giggling. “...I like you,” he whispered, and Steve squirmed, smiling so wide he hid it in his mittens automatically, even though Billy was hiding his face too. 

“...I-I l-like you too,” he whispered back, and Billy surged up and kissed him _ again,  _ his lips wet like he’d been biting them. He kept laughing, his eyes wide in the dim shadows. “You got spit on me, and it tastes like cheese,” Steve giggled, and Billy’s mouth dropped open in offense. 

He slid his hands down Steve’s sides and _ tickled  _ him, and Steve _ yelped,  _ batting Billy’s hands away. Steve tried to tickle him back—which didn’t really work, through his mittens and Billy’s coat—and then Billy _ jumped,  _ scrambling away, and Steve pushed himself up to see Carol Perkins crouching to watch them. 

“...you guys are _ so loud,”  _ she hissed. 

“...Tommy’s in the big tire,” Steve told her, hoping she’d go away, and she scowled at the ground.

“...he’s being a jerk,” she mumbled, and Steve sat up.

“Yeah! He is!” he agreed, as Billy huffed.

“Who cares about _ Tommy,”  _ he muttered, yanking Steve over, entirely out from under the slide, and into his lap. Steve squawked, then registered how tightly Billy was _ hugging  _ him, and his whole face got hot. 

“...he’s gonna be awful until you make up with him,” Carol said, watching them, and frowning. “You should go say you’re sorry.”

“I don’t want to,” Steve admitted, clenching his fingers in Billy’s coat. “I didn’t do anything!”

“You’re _ Tommy’s  _ best friend!” she shot back, and Billy squeezed him even harder.

“He’s _ my  _ friend now,” Billy growled at her, and Carol huffed. 

“I’m telling him you _ don’t even care,”  _ she shot back, and Steve winced as she stomped off. 

“Who needs him,” Billy muttered, and Steve buried his face in Billy’s hair. Billy’s ears were cold, and Steve pressed his cheek to one, wrapping his arm around to press a mitten to the other.

“He _ is  _ my best friend,” Steve sighed, and Billy shook his head.

“He hit you in the face!”

“...it was dodgeball,” Steve sighed, remembering other times. 

“I should be your best friend,” Billy growled, and Steve had a huge, grown-up thought. He remembered what his mom had said about the man she’d brought to his birthday party, and tried the word in his head, to see whether it fit. 

“Um, y-you could be my. Um,” he said, chickening out, but Billy waited, tense.

“My _ fiance,”  _ Steve whispered, like it was a bad word, and Billy took a sharp breath.

“O-okay,” he agreed, nodding.

“It means we’re getting married,” Steve confessed in a breathy squeak, feeling like Billy should know before he said yes. It was a very adult feeling.

“O-okay,” Billy said, even more shakily, nodding again, and Steve hugged his head. “Can—can we? Do that?”

Steve considered. “I think we have to wait until we’re older,” he said, and Billy nodded.

“Like in highschool,” he whispered back, and they giggled, wide-eyed with their grown-up secret. 

Steve nodded. “Old enough so they can’t tell us what to do!”

“I want a tattoo, too,” Billy told him, nodding, and Steve blinked, then giggled, imagining how he’d look. He blushed. Billy hummed throughtfully. “And a car.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “We can drive the car to get married. We have to learn to drive, too.” He thought about how much there was to _ do.  _ “When we live together we can stay up all night,” he pointed out, and Billy sighed.

“And a _ house,”  _ he mumbled. He shivered, and Steve sat back, looking at his red ears, nose, and hands, and thinking about how you had to take care of people, if you married them. He pulled a mitten off, and put it on Billy.

“Wait,” Billy said, his cheeks reddening even more. “What about you—”

“We’ll hold hands,” Steve told him, holding up his remaining mittened hand. “To keep our hands warm.”

Billy kissed his mouth again. His lips were cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil doesn't get to pull his shit in _their_ classroom...or ever, again.

That day at lunch, Billy’s dad came, and watching Billy, Steve could tell he already knew his dad was gonna be mad. “Why’s he mad _ now?”  _ Steve asked, in a whisper, as Billy watched his dad talk to the teacher. “You didn’t even do anything. Today.”

“He called her yesterday,” Billy whispered, his eyes on Mrs. White, who looked like an angry cat, Steve thought, with her shoulders up and her head back, glaring up at Billy’s dad. “He yelled at her.”

“She looks like she’s going to _ claw  _ him,” Steve told him, giggling, and Billy smiled a little, but not much. When Billy’s dad called him over, Steve leaned in for another kiss, because they were _ fiances  _ now, but just as their lips brushed, Billy’s dad grabbed Billy by his _ hair  _ and _ threw  _ him down against the ground, so his shoulder thunked against the leg of a desk. A bunch of kids screamed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Billy shrieked, and his dad stared down at him, then pointed at Steve.

“What was that, Billy?” he asked, softly, and Billy cried harder, curling up small. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t _ mean  _ it—” he shouted back, and after a second of _ betrayal,  _ Steve decided Billy was just scared.

“What kind of teacher,” Billy’s dad asked, smiling at Mrs. White, who must have _ sprinted  _ over when Billy’s dad grabbed him, because she was suddenly just _ there,  _ next to Steve, pulling Billy into her arms, and baring her teeth. “What _ kind of teacher,  _ what kind of _ school—” _

“I will call the fucking police,” she hissed back at him, and the whole classroom gasped, riveted.

“What did he _ do?”  _ Steve whispered, starting to cry. He tried to walk around closer to Billy, but his dad twitched, and Steve flinched back, dropping to squeeze Billy’s sneaker instead. 

“Is that what you’re teaching them here?” Billy’s dad asked, with a little laugh, but nothing felt funny. “What kind of teacher allows—I will _ have your credentials,  _ you will _ never  _ teach in this state again—” More kids gasped, and whispered.

“I kissed Nancy last year,” Steve told him, his voice shaking. “Nobody said it was bad! Nancy told me not to.”

“I kissed _ Carol  _ in _ kindergarten,”  _ Tommy said, apparently deciding to unite with Steve again, Billy’s dad was so scary. Mrs. White started _ laughing,  _ silently, covering her mouth, and Steve wondered if she was trying not to cry. 

“Mrs. White’s a _ good  _ teacher,” said Nancy. “And my mom’s on the _ school board.” _

Steve thought that sounded like a weird place to be, imagining Nancy’s mom in a swimsuit somewhere preparing to dive, but Billy’s dad scoffed. 

“Nobody told us kissing is wrong,” said Barb, and Steve nodded. “We’ve never heard that from our _ parents.” _

Mrs. White pushed Billy out of her lap, pulling Steve over to help him up

“If you call my employer,” Mrs. White said, standing up, and wiping her eyes, “—I will call yours. _ Reputation,”  _ she hissed, narrowing her eyes, and Steve was reminded of a cat again—one who had had enough. “Reputation matters a _ lot  _ in this town. And I’ve lived here for _ thirty-nine years.  _ My father is a clerk at the _ Chamber of Commerce—”  _

Billy’s dad snorted a laugh, but Mrs. White raised her voice over him. “And my mother rings people up at the _ grocery store.  _ Word will spread like _ wildfire,  _ Mr. Hargrove. If you _ lay another hand on this boy,”  _ she said, “—you won’t be able to get a job as a _ trash collector  _ anywhere in this—this _ gosh...darned...state.”  _ She narrowed her eyes at Mr. Hargrove, while he opened his mouth and shut it again.

Mrs. White smoothed her pants, and bent to look into Billy’s stunned face, wiping his cheeks with her thumb. “We should all ask before kissing, probably,” she told them. “Can we all agree to do that?”

There was a chorus of alarmed agreement.

“Yeah,” Steve said, pulling Billy closer. “Can I kiss you again?” he whispered, and Billy nodded, sniffling. His dad clenched his fists, but Steve hid Billy’s face in his shoulder as he kissed his cheek. 

“Everyone in the county will be watching you, Mr. Hargrove,” Mrs. White said, putting her hand on Billy’s head. “I know the neighbors across the street from you. The Andersons, did you know? She loves my brandy snaps. And the people next door, the Garcias. I taught their daughter last year. They _ love  _ me.”

Billy’s dad looked like he might _ explode,  _ his teeth making an awful scraping squeak, and Mrs. White folded her arms. “Steve, sweetie, would you like it if Billy stayed the night at your house?”

“Ah-um, sure,” Steve mumbled, flushing bright red at the idea of showing Billy his room. 

“We’ll call your mom in a minute, okay? I’ll explain,” she said, never taking her eyes off Mr. Hargrove. 

He glared back at her, his hands shaking. 

“I think you don’t need to explain any more about kissing to him, either,” she said, setting her jaw. “Looks like you don’t need to pick Billy up after all. Good afternoon, Mr. Hargrove.”

“Billy,” he hissed, “—get over here.”

“No,” Mrs. White said, and her voice shook a little, again. “No, Billy’s staying here. If Steve’s mom says no, maybe he and Steve and I will have a sleepover.”

“He could come to my house,” said Nancy, raising her hand. 

There was a chorus of kids offering couches and bunk beds—and a lot of ‘my little brother can just sleep outside’—until Billy cleared his throat, and shakily muttered “Thanks,” into Steve’s shoulder.

“I hope we won’t need to see each other again,” Mrs. White told Mr. Hargrove, who took a step forward, opening his mouth, and she clapped loudly and yelled “Everybody get ready to go to recess! Coats, shoes!” Steve could hear her still in the noise, because he was by her elbow. “Either you leave, or we all leave you here in the classroom, Mr. Hargrove,” she said, and he finally turned and stalked out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Billy slumped against Steve’s shoulder, and Steve hugged him tighter.

“After recess,” Mrs. White called out, “—we’re doing a surprise special lesson! It’ll be fun!”

Billy spent their abrupt recess on the swing—even Tommy didn’t want to tell him he’d had too long a turn—staring at the ground. Steve asked if he could kiss him again, and Billy nodded. His cheek was cold, and sticky from crying. Steve heard Nancy solemnly asking Jonathan Byers about a kiss too, under the jungle gym.

When they came back in, Mrs. White looked like she’d been crying _ hard,  _ and she hung up right in the middle of a sentence. He’d never seen a teacher _ cry  _ before, and the heavy feeling in his stomach and behind his eyes got worse. 

“I hope everybody’s feeling better,” she said, looking around. “Anyone need a hug? Okay,” she gave a few, as Billy’s fingers tightened on Steve’s.

Once everybody had sat down, and Steve was trying his hardest to hug Billy across his desk, Mrs. White clapped her hands.

“We’re going to talk about history today,” she said, clearing her throat, which didn’t work. She sounded like she had a bad cold. “I’ve got…” she waggled her eyebrows, and pulled out the _ candy bowl.  _ Everyone _ oooooo’ _ d. “I’m gonna walk around and let everybody take three M&Ms, okay? It’s been a hard day.” 

As she walked around—in alphabetical order, Steve realized, squeezing Billy’s shoulder—she started talking. “Everybody knows the big crimes, right?” she asked. “Stealing?” 

They all nodded, whispering, and Nancy raised her hand. “Killing people,” she stage-whispered.

“That’s one too,” Mrs. White told her, and Nancy looked proud. “Now, you’re all so smart, I’m sure you can tell me why they’re so bad.”

“B-because the person that, um, the person stolen from, they’re sad,” that nerd Howie said, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Exactly,” Mrs. White said. “They’re _ illegal,  _ they’re _ crimes,  _ because they _ hurt people,  _ right?” There were a lot of nods. “If a grown-up has been drinking, that’s why they can’t drive, too. Drunk driving is a crime.”

“Because you could run someone _ over,”  _ Nancy whispered, through her fingers, and Mrs. White nodded.

Steve had never really thought about it that way, and he tried to think of other crimes. He’d kept his hand on Billy shoulder when Billy sat down, and he kept rubbing it gently. 

“Beating people up,” said somebody. “My uncle’s in jail for beating people up.”

“That’s definitely hurting people,” another voice behind Steve said, as he watched Billy’s unnatural stillness, and shallow breaths. He didn’t even take any M&Ms, so Mrs. White sat three on his desk, and bent to hug his head. Steve took three, and reached up to put them with Billy’s, and he finally looked up and around, his eyes shiny with tears. He grabbed them as a handful, and ate one, sniffling, and leaning back into Steve’s hands.

The other kids shouted out other laws as she gave out M&Ms, and sometimes if a kid shouted something out, she’d give them another M&M. 

“Did you know we keep making new, better laws?” Mrs. White asked, once she’d been all the way around, and most of the class shook their heads. _ “Did you know,”  _ she said, leaning back against her desk, “—there used to be a law saying you had to carry a bale of hay in your car? Huge!” She waved her arms around, illustrating something the size of Steve’s mom’s oven. “Imagine how messy!”

Everyone giggled, and she crouched down to ask Carol, “Where would you even sit?” 

Carol snickered. “I’d have to ride with Tommy!”

“It was a _ crime  _ not to do it, guess why,” she said. Barb said her mom used twigs to put under the wheels in the ice or mud. Howie said if your car broke down it’d be _ warmer,  _ and Steve groaned.

“Those are really good ideas,” Mrs. White said. “...it was because people used to drive carriages, with horses,” she told them, finally, smiling. “It was your horse’s lunchbox!”

“But we don’t have horses anymore!” a kid yelled out, excitedly, and Billy flinched.

“And that’s why they changed the law! It’s not hurting anyone to not carry hay, now.” Everybody nodded, shouting out silly ideas for laws. “Now,” Mrs. White laughed, “—you all know mommies and daddies can’t decide what kind of baby to have, even if they _ really want  _ a little girl,” she said, and Nancy flopped forward groaning—she’d been incredibly excited, Steve remembered, thinking she’d get a little sister, and hadn’t quite forgiven her little brother yet for the disappointment.

“Yeeeeeessss,” she groaned. 

“There used to be a very scary law,” Mrs. White said in a hushed voice, “—that said if a mommy didn’t have the sons the daddy wanted, he could _ hurt her.” _

That fell into shocked silence, and then everybody started asking questions, and Steve slid out of his seat to get up on the desk, sliding his arms around Billy’s head. Billy turned to lean his face against Steve’s thigh, and Steve petted his hair. 

“It’s a bad law, isn’t it?” Mrs. White asked them. “Mommies having little girls? Does that hurt anyone?”

They all agreed it very much did _ not,  _ and Nancy raised her hand, wide-eyed, and suggested they write letters.

“That law was struck down,” Mrs. White told her, smiling. “We realized it was a bad law.” She told them about a law against being black after dark in Oregon, and asked them if it was a good or a bad law. “Bad law!” they shouted, and everybody got another M&M. Some of the laws were really _ weird,  _ but once she explained, they were good laws.

Steve had never thought much about laws before.

“How about this one,” she said, while Jonathan showed Nancy the orange and blue streaks on his hand from holding his M&Ms. “Two boys getting married is a crime.” 

“Bad law!” they all yelled, giggling, and she nodded, smiling. She looked kind of sad again, Steve thought. “Why is it bad? Tommy?”

Tommy glared back over his shoulder, then said “Because it’s _ dumb.  _ It’s not hurting anybody!”

“Good job,” she nodded, and gave him a whole _ handful  _ of M&Ms. He sighed.

“Mrs. White,” Nancy asked, “Is—is that one _ real?” _

“It is,” she said. “It’s an old law, and they’re working on changing it.” 

Everybody turned to look at Steve, and he ducked his head, wondering, suddenly, whether he was going to _ jail.  _ He’d driven by it, once. The men around the walls had _ guns. _

“That’s a bad law!” Howie the nerd shouted, and for once, Steve wanted to hear him talk.

“That’s stupid,” Barb said, exchanging frowns with Nancy. “That’s a stupid law. That doesn’t hurt anybody.”

“It _ doesn’t  _ hurt anybody, does it?” Mrs. White said. “Two people that love each other?”

“Not if they love each other,” Howie sighed. “Better than _ my  _ mom and dad.”

“That’s a bad law!” Nancy said, smacking her hand on the desk. 

“They’ll vote it down,” Mrs. White said, and Steve swallowed, hugging Billy tighter. “It will be different, soon. By the time any of you get married, I’m sure you’ll be able to marry someone you love.”

“Let’s write to the senator again,” Nancy said, standing up, and Mrs. White laughed, and walked over to hug her.

“It’s something grownups are used to, though,” she told them. “Like a lot of them are still used to drunk driving.” Steve and Billy got more glances. “So,” Mrs. White said, “You might hear different things from other people. But you know how to figure out what’s right, right? You know it’s okay if it doesn’t hurt people?”

A couple of kids looked doubtful, but almost everybody nodded, and she declared it was storytime, and read everyone a book about two girl cats that lived together, _ Chloe and Maude. _

Steve’s mom didn’t care whether Billy came home with him, particularly when Mrs. White offered them a ride, and Billy was like a puppet whose strings got cut, falling dead asleep on Steve all afternoon so he couldn’t get up out of the beanbag chair. Steve didn’t actually mind. He hugged Billy, trying to shift him to be comfy in his lap, and thought about how weird it was that his teacher had a _ car,  _ just like a parent.

When school finally got out, a woman ran in and hugged Mrs. White tightly, as Mrs. White groaned into her shoulder. Steve realized teachers must also have _ friends,  _ and tried to imagine what they did—watched movies, maybe, on the projector, after school.

“Oh my _ lord,  _ what a day,” she said, holding the woman’s hands. “Daiquiris tonight?”

“I think you deserve them,” said her friend. “Are these Steve and Billy?”

Steve nodded, and Billy edged closer to him. “...he’s my _ fiance,”  _ Steve told her, feeling stubborn.

“Ohhh,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “You gonna marry Billy when you get older?”

Steve nodded again, setting his jaw, and she nodded back, then leaned closer. “Want to hear a secret?” she asked him, and he frowned at her. “Your teacher is _ my  _ fiance,” she said, and Billy’s head jerked up for the first time all afternoon, as Mrs. White gave a nervous laugh. He was glaring, but she didn’t seem to mind. “One day, when we’re older, I’ll marry her.”

“...you’re already kinda old,” Billy said doubtfully, and she stared at him before bursting out laughing. 

“Yeah,” she said. “I wish we were married now, but we’ll get there.”

“We’re not gonna wait ‘til we’re old,” Billy said, sniffling, and she got up and brought him a kleenex.

“...does she let you play in the playground after everybody else goes home?” Steve asked, wide-eyed, and they both started laughing.

As they got ready to leave, Steve pulled a mitten on Billy and one on himself, and grabbed his mittenless hand. Mrs. White’s Fiance made a high-pitched noise, steepling her fingers over her nose to muffle it. “Oh nooooo,” she whispered, “—you’re so _ right,  _ V, oh _ nooooo.”  _

Billy shot her a suspicious glance, and squeezed Steve’s hand. His was _ already  _ cold, and kinda sweaty, but Steve took it and breathed on it, rubbing their fingers together. 

“How are you two doing?” Mrs. White asked them, crouching down, and patting Billy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry today was so rough. Neither of you are in trouble, you know that, right?”

Steve _ gasped  _ with relief, his eyes going all blurry, and Billy startled, and spun to hug him with a _ whoosht  _ noise from their winter gear. “...I don’t want to go to jail,” Steve told them, his voice shaking, and Mrs. White’s Fiance crouched down too. 

“Oh no, what did you _ tell  _ them?! You aren’t going to jail, sweetie!”

“I ate in the library,” Steve confessed, sobbing, “—and I’m marrying Billy, and we didn’t have a hall pass—”

_ Both  _ ladies hugged he and Billy, just _ holding  _ them, and Steve felt he and his fiance relaxing slowly into the bony warmth. 

“You wanna go on the swings?” Mrs. White’s Fiance asked, stroking both their heads. “Would that perk you kids up? How about,” she lowered her voice, waggling her eyebrows, “—a _ secret recess,  _ just for you? We can share. You can push each other on the swings.”

Billy twitched, eyeing Steve.

Mrs. White laughed. “Would you like that? The whole playground to yourself?”

Billy stared at Steve. “...will your mom be mad if we’re late,” he whispered, and Steve shook his head. He watched Billy brighten up again, grinning, and Steve liked seeing it, even though Billy nearly yanked his arm off dragging him outside.

They went on the monkeybars, and fell off, because their hands were so cold. The air was clear, even though it smelled like more snow, and Steve and Billy sat next to each other on the swings, trying to swing high enough to flip all the way over. 

Mrs. White sounded like she was calling Billy’s mom, Steve thought. She sounded determined, stalking around the swingset, holding hands with _ her  _ fiance. She was smiling, some, though, and she didn’t look like an angry cat anymore, so he thought maybe Billy’s scary dad was gonna get locked out of the house. He hoped, setting his jaw, that he’d get _ arrested,  _ and go to jail. Mrs. White hung up, laughing, and then leaned into her fiance with a groan, and they rocked together, hugging over by the sand box.

Billy was swinging higher and higher, his curls trailing in the wind. His cheeks were bright red, but he was grinning, so Steve didn’t say anything. He had to catch up. He leaned back and stared up at the blue sky, and felt himself flying. Billy yelled next to him, every time he thought Steve was swinging higher, and finally their mittenless hands were too numb to stay on, and they yelled and jumped off, giggling, in a shower of gravel. 

Billy threw his arms around Steve and hugged him, and Steve squished him back, as hard as he could. His ears were even colder, and Steve kissed one, watching as it got even more red, and Billy laughed, even though nothing was funny, nuzzling closer. It felt good to be held so tight, and Steve bet Billy liked it too, and promised himself he would, forever, even after highschool. Even when they were old like Mrs. White. 

Billy made a giggling humming noise, and Steve kissed all of his freckles. Billy tried to kiss his cheeks too, until they were both laughing too hard to stand up, and Mrs. White and her fiance came over to find them one the ground, leaning against each other, making whispered promises about who got to pick everything out in their house.

**Author's Note:**

> Realized too late they'd probably all be sitting at tables, not desks? OH WELL
> 
>  **Thank you so much for wandering in! Lemme know if you liked my story--I lovelovelove hearing from people! Kudos! Short comments! Long comments! Questions! Constructive criticism! Comments as extra kudos! Thanks so, so much! XD** (I try to reply to each one, but if you don't want a response to your comment then please say "No reply please" or "Whisper" so I'll know not to reply.)
> 
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